


So here we are.

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2013ish era, Angst, Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Louis POV, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: Louis isn't sure if they're keeping on or giving up.





	So here we are.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one is a bit of an angstier one but, true to form, I couldn't help but fluff it up towards the end.
> 
> Thank you, music, for being such a muse.

Things have been difficult before, too. 

It wasn’t them that was being difficult, it was specifically things outside them that were straining, spiteful, threatening their peace and grounded togetherness. They themselves were easy, their relationship was easy, it was them against the world, against all the odds. Louis isn’t sure if that’s really the case anymore; maybe this time it is them that became more difficult to fit together, if the puzzle pieces of him and Harry suddenly had altered not too much, but enough to not be so smooth to piece together anymore. The picture that their millions of little pieces made together was changing, altering, little lines of empty air in between pieces that don’t quite fit anymore. 

There are mornings. 

Good mornings, when Harry wakes him up with softly singing Wake up, sleepyhead and brushing strands of hair off his forehead, pressing light little kisses on his temple, his forehead, somewhere by his hairline, on his ear lobe. Harry likes to wake up early where Louis prefers to sleep in. Good mornings are mornings where Harry has a lie-in, allows the time to run forward, doesn’t get up as early as he’d want to, so he can wake up Louis a little bit earlier than Louis would like to wake up, they meet in the middle and have a quiet morning together, tea and coffee and toast in bed, and the crumbs on the sheets are ok, they change the sheets together. 

But the bad mornings are becoming more frequent, and Louis knows this, and he knows Harry does, too.

Mornings when it’s not even morning anymore, it’s afternoon when Louis wakes up alone, the sheets on the other side gone cool, when it’s been hours since a warm body had lied there, making them sleep-warm. The cold sheets seem to spread cold to the whole house, and Louis’ home feels cold. He’s having breakfast alone, and the times of finding a cute note in the kitchen telling Harry’s gone for a run, or gym, or just getting brunch groceries, are getting rarer. Sometimes, and Louis considers these good-ish mornings when it happens, even though it’s not really morning and it’s not really good, Harry calls him at some point and asks him to join him and his friends. When Louis does, it’s usually fun times, but lately, he finds himself declining more often. 

Then one morning is very bad, though maybe it’s more late night, or a very early-early morning. It’s 5:28 when Louis wakes up, startled by something that he immediately realises is his body reacting to the lack of the skin contact it’s used to, and Harry’s not there. Harry’s not there, and there’s no notifications on Louis’ phone. Louis is shocked to realise he isn’t sure who to call, who would be the best first bet, where to start looking for Harry. He doesn’t know where to start, so he decides to start everywhere. 

He dresses up quickly, throwing on whatever he can find on the big, plush, green velvet chair they have in their bedroom; a fine piece of furniture, unceremoniously used as something to dump their clothes on. Louis is pretty sure half of the items currently on him aren’t really his, he can feel the joggers droop down a bit too much when he’s fumbling his way down the stairs, so he can leave this house and go find his person. He is trying to come up with a plan of places to start looking, when there’s a sound invading his mind as he gets downstairs, a rather loud snore, coming from the living room. 

Seeing Harry sleeping on the sofa first makes him feel a very big, huge, relief and gratitude, that some higher force has guided this mess home, back to Louis. The relief quickly turns into angry hurt, hurtful anger and for a very fleeting moment, he wants to shake Harry awake and just yell. He looks at Harry, curled up on the couch, boots still on, which would make Harry absolutely scowl at himself, and suddenly all Louis can feel is sadness. 

He kneels on the floor, next to Harry’s head, and cups his cheek. “I love you,” he says, no louder than a whisper, and he’s not sure why he didn’t really even want Harry to hear. He looks at his sleeping boyfriend for a moment, decides against even trying to wake him up – his odour is quite telling that Harry isn’t blacked out just out of tiredness – and climbs on top of him, spreading a throw over them. Last thing he remembers is feeling the chest against his rising up and down lowly, firmly, and a heavy hand curling around him. 

In the morning, Harry has a stiff neck, a headache, and Louis has a shower with too hot water and it leaves his skin red. 

\---

They’d made plans since pretty much the moment they met, and all their plans, the first ones and all the plans that followed, were built on the absolutely obvious fact that these were plans that they would see through together. They would be in a band together, conquer the world together, move in together; it didn’t take long for the plans to become further in the further, plans of a family together, of a forever together, plans of where they’d travel for honeymoon. 

It took a little bit longer for their shared plans to move further and further into the future, but the plans were still theirs, shared. Plans for good times, plans of and for happiness. 

They talk less about their plans, less about their future. Louis isn’t sure if it’s because of that future constantly becoming further, or because it’s becoming less likely. He is sure, however, that he probably doesn’t want to know.

Harry’s fallen asleep on the sofa again, telly still on. It’s 4:51 on a Thursday morning. 

“Come to bed, love,” Louis gently nudges his shoulder. “Your back is going to kill you in the morning.” 

Harry shuffles around a bit, so Louis shoves his shoulder again. “Haz. Harry.” 

Harry opens his eyes slowly, blinking at the bright light Louis had turned on when he came to the living room. “What time is it?” Harry mumbles. 

“Bed time.” 

Harry stops blinking and focuses his eyes on Louis. “Hi.” 

Louis smiles, it feels small but not insincere. “Hi. Come to bed.”

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” Harry answers a question Louis didn’t ask. “I know you’ve been tired, wanted to let you sleep.” 

Louis sighs and takes Harry’s hand into his. It feels warm, skin less soft than when Harry was younger, strangely small. “We’ve talked about this. Never not sleep together if we can. It’s in the rules.” 

Harry’s thumb rubs gentle circles on the thin skin on Louis’ inside wrist. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“Never bother me. Never want to not fall asleep and wake up with you,” Louis closes his eyes and leans his forehead to Harry’s for a brief moment. “Want you to always be the last and first thing I see.” 

“It’s my favourite part of the day, too,” Harry smiles and lets Louis pull him up. 

\---

To Louis, the most magical thing about meeting Harry was how it felt like at that same moment, he lost the need to ever use words again. Harry understood him without a word, most times, it was like sharing the same brain. And, it turned out soon after, a heart, beating to one same beat that for some reason had previously been spread between two different hearts. 

During the time they have loved each other, there have been so many moments when no words have been needed, and moments when it felt like no amount of words could ever begin to cover all the things they desperately wanted to tell to each other. They’ve had naps together, quiet moments with the window open, the air smelling like spring and sunshine, when Louis has been lost in Harry’s eyes, feeling like his whole world and soul is locked in these two green irises, tucked away safely from everything. Like a little safety box where he has put all his most precious things, and he knows they are safe. As if Harry’s eyes are a little universe where everything is good, everything is safe, and nothing bad can ever happen.

“You’re my bluest light,” Harry had once whispered to him, not taking his eyes off his, kissing Louis so softly that Louis believed he really was a source of light, bright blue light, able to lit up anything Harry would ever find too dark. 

But lately, Harry hasn’t needed Louis’ light. Louis isn’t sure if it’s because Harry’s world is bright enough as it is or if he just enjoys the darkness. 

“Why do you think you sleep so much?” Louis asks one rare night, when they’re going to bed together, having had a rather nice day, not doing anything special but they’d spent the whole day just the two of them, sharing time and space. It’s a little wistful, Louis understands, to consider such a nothing thing as a good day. 

“Hmm?” Harry turns off his night lamp and turns to look at Louis, even pulling his pillow a little bit closer to Louis. “I’ve always slept a lot. You know this.” 

Louis turns on his side as well, facing Harry. “But why do you think that is?” 

Harry shrugs. “Guess I’m just a tired person.” 

“Do you think,” Louis runs a finger down from Harry’s hairline down his nose and to his lips, Harry giving a very small peck to his fingertip, “that maybe you’re escaping?” 

Harry bites his finger very lightly. “From what?” 

“You know,” Louis pulls his hand away and tucks it under his cheek. “From yourself.” 

Harry looks at Louis for a long while, and for a moment, Louis feels like he’s back in that little universe where everything is good and he’s held so safe. “Maybe,” Harry finally whispers.

\---

Louis has watched Harry change, from an awkward teenager to everyone’s favourite goofball, a charming goofball who – Louis isn’t stupid – many would also like to have their way with in several sexual ways. Harry’s grown to who he is expected to be, who he perhaps always aspired to be; he is a confident rockstar who knows how talented he is and how much most people like, fancy, him. It feels like the kid, because that’s what he was, they both were, was a little caterpillar who the changed into this bright, colourful, most gorgeous butterfly that everyone wants to brag about having spotted or owned or seen, even if for a little while. Louis, feeling bitter and accepting it, sometimes feels like he took that caterpillar to love and nurture, and after his job was done, it can’t wait to fly away to the great big world and never look back. 

One day in a rehearsal, Harry is being his usual self and whilst attempting a cartwheel, lands badly on his right wrist. Louis’s by his side in an instant, Harry resolutely telling him that he doesn’t need any help, that he’s fine, let’s carry on. Louis knows better than to push it, so he takes a few steps back to give Harry some space. In a bit, there’s an assistant coming over to Harry, taking him to the A&E without a protest. 

Harry’s wrist is broken, and Louis isn’t sure the wrist is the only thing. 

At home, they switch around their sides on the bed, to make sure Harry’s hand won’t accidentally get stuck between them and injure more. Harry doesn’t ask for help when he’s trying to pull his boots off, strip off his tight jeans, telling Louis he’s fine. But Louis knows Harry well enough to know the small bite of his lip and eyes getting wetter are signs of sheer stubbornness, annoyance and pain. It takes Harry ages to get undressed and stomp over to the bathroom, again refusing Louis’ offers of help.

Harry wears Vans and joggers for a week.

He doesn’t ask for Louis’ help once, until one day, he comes home and shows off a new tattoo on his left arm to Louis. Louis reckons it’s very cool, very Harry. 

“Could you maybe help me,” Harry asks later that evening, and Louis hates how uncertain and embarrassed Harry sounds. “I need to shower and put stuff on the tattoo.” 

Louis takes off Harry’s clothes, takes the cling film off the tattoo and strips himself, starting the shower, making sure the water is warm but not burning. Harry’s back is turned to him, head bend down whilst Louis watches water driplets drop from Harry’s hair down to his beautiful back, and he starts washing Harry’s hair. He moves a bit closer, surprised to find Harry shivering slightly, knowing the water definitely wasn’t too cold. 

When he realises Harry’s crying, he presses himself against Harry’s back, wrapping his arms around him, Harry’s healthy hand covering his fingers. “I love you,” Harry says quietly, “I do.” 

They finish the shower, saying nothing, but Louis hasn’t felt this close to Harry in a very long while. He plops a dollop of nappy rash ointment on Harry’s fresh tattoo and gently rubs in the cooling lotion on the fresh, still bright reds, scar tissue. 

Whenever, even years later, Louis looks at that tattoo, he thinks back to this day and thinks it broke them to make them, and it’s a good memory. 

\---

“Tell me a secret,” Louis whispers one night, when they’re both in the hazy stage of being almost asleep; a stage where everything feels a bit less real, like it might be a dream. Where Louis feels a little bit braver. 

“You already know all my secrets,” Harry smiles with his eyes closed, wiggling his toes against Louis’ under the duvet.

“Do I?” Louis asks and winces at how it comes out a little bit more bitter than he wanted. 

Harry’s eyes shot open. “What?” 

One thing Louis has always wanted was to keep their bedroom a peaceful zone, a place where no arguments would ever take place, a safe haven which, when entered, only contained good things with all the bad things left outside. 

“I don’t know if I really know you anymore,” Louis finally says honestly. “Sometimes it feels like we might as well be strangers who just, coexist.” 

“When did you stop trusting me?” Harry whispers and he sounds so sad. 

Louis tried to swallow, wanting to get rid of the sudden lump in his throat. “I do trust you,” he says and realises he means it. “But…” 

“You can’t say a ‘but’ after something like that!” Harry’s now half seated. “It’s like I’d tell you I loved you but.” 

Louis looks at Harry, so easy to see even in a very dark room, he has his features memorised with every part of his body. “Is that what you want to say to me?” 

“No,” Harry huffs offended. “I’d never say that to you. Ever, Lou.” 

“You never say anything to me, anymore.”

Harry closes his eyes and presses the bridge of his nose with his finger. “Neither do you. We’re both walking on broken glass, you know it’s both of us.” 

“Just trying to be kind,” Louis tries. 

“We’re not being kind, Lou. We’re being scared.”

Maybe they’re also both giving up.

\---

They have both changed. Changed from the people, actual kids, they were when they first got together. Louis knows their relationship kept changing, improving, for the first few years, tying them so tightly together, with everything that their new life was giving them, good and bad – it made them stronger, more glued to each other. They were taking the same steps at the same time, and Louis finally realises that their steps have now started to move in different pace. He is changing, he’s growing up, and he somehow forgot, or didn’t realise, that his lovely Harry still has some growing and changing to do in himself, too. 

Harry lives for pleasing people, he has always been more or less aware of this. Harry just wants everyone to love him, or at least not think anything negative about him. Harry does his utmost best in trying to be perfect in anything he does. He doesn’t mind putting himself down a bit, making fun of himself, if it means he can make another person laugh by doing it. He’s okay with being a little bit less happy if, in exchange, he can make someone else happy as, how he reasons it, other people’s happiness will make him happier in the process. 

They are changing together and separately and trying to find a balance between who Louis is and what is he becoming, who Harry is and who he wants to be, who they are as a couple. 

“I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m holding you back.”

“I don’t want you to feel like I’d ever not want to stay with you.”

“You don’t know that, though. We won’t always be the same.”

And that’s what it all comes down to, Louis realises as the words leave his mouth. He doesn’t know if he and Harry will still be people who want to be together, who are so good together.

“You said you trust me, but?” Harry is lying on his back, hands crossed on his stomach. 

“I do, trust you,” Louis starts, clearing his throat. “But, I guess, I don’t always… Trust the people around you. You should be a bit more, be a little harder. Not everyone is as good as you. I worry, sometimes.” 

“You don’t trust my judgement?” Harry’s tone doesn’t sound accusatory.

“I think you’re a little too nice for your own good, sometimes. You don’t need to act so cool, all the time. Some people are dicks. You’re not. You don’t need dicks to like you.”

“You don’t need to always protect me, Lou.”

“But that’s my job.” 

“No, that’s just it,” Harry turns to face Louis. “It’s not your job. You’re my boyfriend, you’re not my bodyguard, or my big brother, or my dad. You don’t always need to be the strong one.” 

“But I want to take care of you, I need to.”

Harry huffs, sounding a little frustrated. “Don’t you think I would want to take care of you, too? You don’t have to be the strong one all the time, I’m not a kid anymore. I can be that for you, too. Let me be that for you.” 

They get each other at their softest, hardest, loudest, quietest. 

“I…” Harry continues. “I have things I need to figure out, about myself. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you or don’t want to share everything with you, I’m just…. I’m a little tired,” he finally confesses quietly. 

Louis pulls him into a tight hug. “You can be. Like, be anything. It’s all a part of you, and I love all of you. Doesn’t matter if it’s something new or something I already know.” 

Harry kisses his jaw and inhales his skin, his smell. “I don’t want to be a laughing stock anymore.” 

“I’m a little scared of the future,” Louis confesses in turn. 

“Our future?” 

“Yeah,” Louis sighs. “Of like, and I mean I want it more than anything, but it’s… It scares me, a little, when our relationship stops being just ours. When we share it with the world. When the bubble breaks.” 

\---

The absolute universal truth of him and Harry being meant to be together, by all possible higher forces, had been cemented to Louis’ soul when he had told Harry about his embarrassingly sappy theory about the love bubble they lived in. Harry hadn’t laughed but had taken on the habit of sometimes air-drawing a circle, resembling a bubble apparently, around himself and Louis, almost like shielding them from everything else. 

Louis truly often did feel like he and Harry were surrounded by this invisible, but incredibly strong, sort of halo shield – or a bubble, which kept the two of them intact and safe, cocooned their relationship out of reach of anything that could ever harm it. And the great thing about it, babe, Louis had told Harry, is that we keep strengthening it with the love we make, that we sent out to the world. Harry, being ridiculously romantic, had bought it all happily with his eyes sparkling.

\---

Louis is woken up that morning, in an ungodly hour, and dragged outside with barely being let to put clothes on. The snow, first proper snow he’s seen in London in years, glitters with the first rays of sunshine peaking from between the bare tree branches are making the pure white snow glitter and it looks beautiful. He makes a snow angel and Harry lies on top of him, drawing a big half circle around their heads on the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments mean the absolute world to me x
> 
> Written in the glorious company of  
> Harry Styles - Ever Since New York  
> Deftones - Change  
> Keane - Might as well be strangers  
> Bloc Party - Like eating glass, Plans, Modern love, So here we are (YES I STOLE IT SORRY IT JUST FIT)  
> Lykke Li - I never learn, Heart of steel  
> A Great Big World - Say something


End file.
